Cartegena to Denia

We left Cartegena with light winds perfectly in the nose and “motor-sailed” along the coast. Other sailors motor-sailed directly into the wind and swell, while we tried to keep the main somewhat filled, which still required us to veer off at a 25 – 30 degree angle. It’s better for the sail and speed but not so good for the course. Heard on the radio: 34 people on a rubber boat somewhere in the vicinity of Cartegena. Keep an eye out, etc. Patrick saw a sea turtle. So much for the excitement for the day. After a demoralizing short-tack of 20 miles, we finally rounded the Palos headland and took a northerly turn up the coast, which finally allowed us to cut the motor and really sail, making 6 knots on a smooth sea for the next 20 miles. We anchored in the Torrevieja harbor just at the entrance where the pilot book says that anchoring is officially prohibited but tolerated. As we timidly rounded the corner to see what it looked like, we saw 4 other sailboats anchored and lots of space for us. Very calm night.

Watermelon break at the helm.

The weather report called for “sand haze” today. We had what now seems to be a typical day of Med sailing: calm and motor sailing for 2 hours, followed by excellent sailing for another 2 hours, followed by the wind building rapidly from 12 to 15 knots. This happens over a period of about 20 minutes. NOW is the time to put TWO reefs in the main. By the time you finish this exercise, the winds will be up to 20 knots. We were also treated to a crossed sea swell that was like hitting speed bumps on the highway. We sailed in this uncomfortable way for the next 4 hours. I read in the pilot that we could anchor off the beach of Campello with the jetty from the marina offering protection from the east winds. No such luck. As we reached Campello, the beach was completely roped off for swimmers up to the entrance of the harbor and there wasn’t even any place to shelter from the winds to take the sails down. We dropped the main and let it sit in its lazyjacks while we wobbled along the deck to put the fenders on. I tried calling on the vhf to see if the marina (small, private) had space for us but they didn’t answer. As we headed in, two marineros were waiting for us and signaled us to pull in to a berth next to the fuel station. They had seen us on the water and prepared an easy entry spot for us. The price was steep (39 euros) for the few hours we intended to stay, but we were both very happy to have a place for the night out of the wind. Weather update: thunderstorm warning with gale-force gusts. Skies steel grey. Very happy to be here indeed.

Lots of fish farms in this area.  Well marked but almost always placed on a direct line between your two ports.

To make up for the difficult day, Neptune and Eole gave us one of those rare, perfect sailing days that took us to the beautiful Cala Mascarat. We waited until the winds turned a bit southerly in the afternoon to leave Campello, and although we were on a close reach, we didn’t have to tack and sailed at 5 knots on a smooth sea the whole afternoon. Just as we arrived, we crossed the Greenwich Meridian, passing from West to East. (After a bit of study, we realized that we cross the Greenwich meridian each time we go from our home in Brittany to Paris, but that’s much less fun than crossing it at sea.) The Cala Mascarat was completely camouflaged in the cliffs and we triple-checked the gps positions as we pulled up blindly up to where it was supposed to be. Slowly we saw a patch of turquoise water appear around the corner that led into a small (1-2 boat max !) cala, perfect for the evening. Anchor down, photos, drinks, splashing feet in the 24 degree water. This is why we came to the Med. Around 2 a.m., the rocking and rolling woke us up. The swell had begun to wrap around the headland and enter the cala. We didn’t feel like trying out the new flopper stoppers at this hour, and the swell wasn’t so bad that we could sleep, although your could only really sleep on your back or stomach.

We allowed ourselves to sleep in a bit and took off expecting to motor sail at least half of the day. We were pleasantly surprised with 11 knot winds on a beam reach that grew to 16-19 knots winds on a broad reach, allowing us to cruise along at 7 knots ! I saw two moon fish (weird creatures). As we rounded Cabo de Nao, the winds slowly slacked off and we finished the last two hours motoring along some of the most beautiful cliffs we’ve seen. We pulled into the large, modern port of Denia and promptly decided to stay for at least 4 days. The showers are THE nicest anywhere on the Spanish Med coast. The quays are concrete and very high, so we had to use our trusty plank even with a stern-to berth. It ain’t cheap here, but it’s a great place to wait for the hop to the Balearics, with a charming old town and lots of ship chandlers around (although a bike is very useful here).

We left La Linea almost exactly one month ago now. We have sailed approximately 65% of the time, although we have sailed on a few days where others probably would have waited or preferred to motor. Our average cost per night for this first month is about 20 Euros, although there is a significant jump from May to June prices. We hope to avoid marinas as much as possible in the islands, of course. We’ve seen some gorgeous sites, put the boat and ourselves through the necessary warm-up routine, made new friends, met up with old friends, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. And now - off to the islands !

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Cartagena

As we pulled into Cartagena, we saw a couple of friends waving and taking photos. Pulling into port is stressful already but being photographed while doing it added a new dimension to the experience. After a few big nervous smiles and waves, we realized we had to ignore them and stay concentrated. The first picture below tells the typical arrival story: Maria with the binoculars trying to find the marinero (port assistant) who is supposed to show us a free spot and Patrick with his head thrown back, looking up at the wind vane to see which way the wind will push us as we manoeuver through the labyrinth of narrow passages.

After a successful “popa al muelle” tie-up (stern-to), we could finally greet Victor and Dorette appropriately. We met them last year in Cadiz and sailed down the coast to La Linea together. They continued on and wintered over in Cartagena. It was great to see them again and to have local guides.

Patrick has really become quite good with stern-to docking even though my face shows a bit of concern for that last turn in…

Dorette's strawberry lemonade hits the spot.

We stayed in Cartagena for 5 days, but we only managed to sight-see on 2 occasions and left before we felt like we had seen everything. Laundry, grocery shopping, and general boat maintenance take up a mind-boggling amount of time.  My first task the next morning was to climb the mast to untangle our spinnaker halyard.  I quite enjoy going up the mast and the view is always interesting.  

Mareda from 14 meters up.

Cartagena is a very bike-friendly town with bike paths around many areas and they seem to be tolerant of rule-breakers like us who ride at a walking pace through the pedestrian areas. We went to the municipal market, which was a bit of a disappointment. Richard and Rosanna, our English / American friends that we met in Almerimar, pulled into Cartagena the next day and they went to a different market, which they reported was equally disappointing. We were saved from certain starvation by the huge Carrefour market, an easy 10-minute bike ride away. One of our favorite tricks, which seems to surprise some cruisers, is to have groceries delivered to the boat. Most large grocery stores will deliver if you buy more than 100 Euros worth of groceries.  For Carrefour, you have to go to the service desk and fill in a form to obtain a Carrefour card (which they give to you immediately), and then you can use it at any Carrefour in Spain.  The Carrefour delivery guy in Cartagena delivered everything directly to the boat – we didn’t even have to meet him at the gate !

The other task we completed, thanks to a suggestion from neighbors Jackie and Chris on Synergy, was to sign up for the Balearic Islands "Ports IB" reservation system.  This on-line system is used to reserve berths or mooring buoys in the islands at the municipal docks (much cheaper). We had heard that the system was confusing and that we should tackle this job well before getting to the islands.  It wasn't so bad, but a good spanish dictionary helps.  The first trick is to find the registration form, which is somewhat hidden in the "make a reservation" section.  It throws up a page that starts asking you questions about which port you want, your boat's length, etc.  Blow past all of that and go down to the bottom part where is says "new user?" and this will take you to the registration form.  The form itself is straightforward except for the last bit that asks for some documents that don't translate into anything recognizable.  We just threw them everything we had (and the documents that are typically requested when you register at any port): photocopy of ID, photocopy of boat registration, and photocopy of boat insurance.  Less than 24 hours later, we received an email saying that we were successfully registered. 

Lazy photojournalist time: here are some miscellaneous tourism photos with no commentary or description. Much history in Cartagena. Will read about it when I’m back home next winter. (Yes, I do realize that’s the wrong way around, but I’ll try harder next year to study for the tourism bits and not just the navigation bits.)

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Halyard Havoc and More About Refugees

After a calm night at anchor in the harbor of Aquilas, we knew we were in for a calm day for the 30 mile sail to Cartagena, so we decided it was time to break out the gennaker. After much heaving and gruntinig to extract the puffy sack from the forward cabin and after rigging all the pulleys and lines needed to make it work, we discovered that the spinnaker halyard that we use to hoist the gennaker was somehow trapped in between the genoa halyard and the mast. It had clearly been this way since we left Gibraltar. With the binoculars I could tell something was wrong but with no details. A photo from my trusty Olympus Tough Camera set to 16 megapixels revealed all once the image was blown up on the computer screen.

Oops.

Apparently, when we hoisted the genoa, we didn’t think about the spinnaker halyard because all seemed clear, and, well, we just didn’t think about it. Our options were to either take down the genoa headsail far enough to pass the spinnaker halyard around, or to climb the mast and pass the spinnaker halyard around the genoa halyard by hand, neither of which I was keen to do at anchor.

We headed off, disgruntled, in light winds and prepared to put up the main sail, more for show and a little shade than for its wind-capturing abilities. Today was to be the day when all of the halyards conspire against us. The main sail halyard had wrapped itself around the deck lamp on the front of the mast and was, as we say back home, “stuck but good”. I must have left too much slack in it after taking down my riding sail and the feeble winds in the anchorage were just enough to loop it around the lamp. We tried a variety of tricks, turning the boat into the wind, to the side, to the rear with no success. Finally we used our longest boat hook and Patrick climbed our 2 mast steps to reach as high as possible to try to swing it out and around the lamp. After a few painful attempts, he managed to loosen it enough that we could pull it around. No fun, but no harm done either. Afterwards, I thought another method would be to hoist a fender (with lines attached to both ends) and the bulk of the fender would force the halyard to go out and around. Anyway, it’s always something.

And then we were in for 7 hours of motor “sailing”.

Heard on the radio: 20 people adrift on a rubber raft approaching Cartagena, exact position unknown. Everyone asked to keep an eye out for them and report any sightings.

I knew that the Med was having a refugee crisis. We hear about it on the news in France often, but I had no idea of the extent, and no idea that Spain was on the front lines, although it makes geographic sense. Here in Europe, we always hear about Italy’s crisis, but judging by the radio calls, Spain is responding to daily rescues.

The recommendation for sailors who see a refugee raft is to stay as far away as possible and to call the authorities to report their position. When the refugees see boats, even a small sailboat like ours, they assume it is safer than the rubber raft they are in, and they have been known to jump into the water and try to swim to your boat. More extreme stories report that the refugees set fire to their raft, trying to force you to respond. But rescuing them puts YOU in danger. Our sailboat, for example, is stability rated for only about 8 adults. Putting 20 panicked adults on board risks capsizing your boat and there’s no way to control such a situation by saying “women and children only” in that kind of drama.

Here in Cartagena, a Dutch friend who wintered over began working as a volunteer for an NGO that deals with these refugees when they arrive. She teaches basic Spanish, but mostly ends up translating from French or English into Spanish for the various aid organizattions. She has some horrific stories about what the refugees are fleeing and what they went through to reach the Spanish coast. It seems crazy to most of us simply watching the drama unfold on the tv why they keep coming here when they are almost always picked up by the coast guard and returned back to where they came from.

In fact, it’s not that simple. First of all, as my friend points out, most of the ones making the journey don’t have television and don’t know the real risks or what happens. There seem to be two or three outcomes depending on where the refugees are from and their situations. They typically destroy all of their identity documents so that it is not possible to easily identify where they come from. Anyone who is clearly Moroccan usually gets sent back since it’s close by. But often the authorities simply inform the refugee that he does not have the right to stay on Spanish soil and that he must go home. Huh? No plane ticket, no bus ticket, no rubber dinghy… just “go home”. Then there are the refugees that ask for asylum and begin a long and uncertain process of trying to legalize their claims to stay. Spain is a particularly attractive landing place for refugees since it is faster to qualify for health care, get jobs in the fishing or agriculture industries, and nationality is attributed to foreign spouses of Spanish nationals after only 3 years. My friend says most of the fruits and vegetables grown in Spain and eaten all throughout Europe were almost certainly picked by workers who were once refugees. So many of the refugees are getting through and are able to eek out a living once the ordeal of the crossing is over (and much to the benefit of the European economy, I suspect).

Patrick and I asked ourselves what we would do if we saw a boat, or worse, a body. It’s hard to accept that we are here living a dream in a place where people are literally dying all around us. My knee-jerk reaction is to say we’ll leave the Med and go somewhere else out of some confused sense of solidarity, but how would this help anyone? As we make our way along the coast, we get further away from the passage points and the refugee crisis will likely fade into a scrapbook memory. It leaves me feeling sad and helpless and a little bit ashamed. 

And now, back to our vacation.  News from Cartagena forthcoming... we thoroughly enjoyed it.

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Aguadulce to San Jose, Garrucha, and Aguilas

While in Aguadulce, we met up with Johannes, an Austrian sailor (who spoke perfect french) with an amazing 30-year old aluminum boat fully outfitted for a world tour although in need of some upkeep. He had recently bought it and was giving himself 5 years to fix it up during his vacations. While sailing in the area in rough weather, his steering chain broke and he was towed into Aguadulce. We went over to hear his stories, offer him a drink, and helped him fish out the two ends of the broken chain from the steering column. Over dinner and sea-stories, we were inspired to finally try out our own emergency tiller.

Emergency Tiller and Patrick's sandal-tanned foot.

We also decided it would be a good idea to finally investigate how we could unblock the lifting centerboard if ever it were stuck in the up position. We had heard there was a thru-hull but had never really thought to look for it. After fruitless internet searches and an email to our dealer, we found it under one of the floorboards near the galley (where the tip of the centerboard would reach in the up position). I’m embarrassed to say that I had seen this thru-hull before and dismissed it as … well, maybe an extra ball valve in case we needed a change? (Seems quite silly now, doesn’t it?). The way it works: 1) put the red handle on the ball valve and verify that it is in the shut position; 2) take off the nut on the top of the thru-hull and screw in the hose assembly; 3) lift the hose assembly vertically so that the height of the tube is greater than the waterline; 4) insert the long thin metal tube laying in the bottom of the lazarette underneath the bikes, the dinghy, snorkeling gear, tool boxes, etc.; 5) push. Patrick wants to try it for real. I’m eager to wait, since a blocked centerboard doesn’t represent an emergency situation but a poorly connected seacock does. I’m thinking maybe we wait until we pull the boat out of the water in Corsica this fall?

System for unblocking a stuck centerboard.

The next day we left Aguadulce on oily seas and motored for 2 hours before the winds picked up enough to sail: 6.5 knots on the beam allowed us to sail at a slow but comfortable 4 knots. As we approached the Cabo de Gata, the wind progressively turned in the nose and strengthened. We rolled up the genoa then started reefing the main. We finished with 18 knots in the nose and tacked back and forth around the famous cape.

Happy boat (black top left) in port after a day of tacking around the Cabo de Gata.

We were accompanied by some (huge !) Atlantic bottlenosed dolphins (I think) who were not particularly impressed with our speed and knew the bow wake would not provide adequate surfing fun, so they left us alone and went off to hunt. Heard on the vhf radio: 34 people adrift on a small boat in the area, heading towards the Spanish coast; everyone asked to keep an eye out for them and report any sightings. Practiced Digital Selective Calling on the vhf radio with friends. We can send but can’t receive. I think I remember shutting off all the bells and whistles on the vhf… will have to investigate. Will write a blog post later about using DSC. It’s good fun and quite useful.

The port of San Jose is charming but very small. They say they turn people away starting in June since they simply can’t handle more than a few visitors. We arrived late and left early so we didn’t have time to explore. Friends said there is good hiking in the area. The evening news reported that the 34 people adrift had been towed into Motril, the small port we were in just a few days ago.

We left San Jose knowing that we were probably in for a rough day. We put 2 reefs in the main to tackle 19 knots in the nose as we headed out with swell from the front quarter. We continued on a close reach “a la anglaise” (e.g., with the motor), trying to maintain a good balance between course and speed. We slalomed between the swells to try to avoid the worst of the bashing into 2 meters of swell. After 2 hours, we both took ½ of a sea-sickness pill (sturgeron) just in case things got worse and we needed to go below (to look at charts, make lunch, etc.). While we were doing our own battles, we heard a call on the vhf in a panicky Arabic, a long monologue and then nothing. The Spanish authorities tried to make contact in Arabic, Spanish, French, and English. No response.

The winds finally drop to 17 knots and turn favorable; we unrolled all of the genoa and after two more tacks we are able to finally make a straight shot into Garrucha. Two miles from port, the winds died completely so we prepared the boat for arrival and motored in. Instead of the 30 miles anticipated, we covered 42 with all of our tacking back and forth and we were ready to stop. Garrucha is a huge port, so large that visiting boats tie up along-side instead of Med style. I wasn’t prepared for that and my fenders were a bit too high, but the wooden railings on the pontoons made for a gentle landing. We heard that Garrucha is known for its jumbo shrimp so we headed out to find them, but after the day we had, we were too tired to go far and ended up having a rather disappointing paella. Friends following up behind us did find the famous shrimp and reported both being sick afterwards.

The weather report suggested that it wasn’t worth heading the 18 miles from Garrucha to Aguilas until the early afternoon when the winds turned more easterly instead of northeast and fully in the nose. We headed out at noon and just as Patrick began bad-mouthing the Mediterranean and its lack of wind, the wind picked up steadily and rapidly from 9 knots to 17. The wind stayed between 16 and 18 knots most of the way, finishing the last two hours with 19 to 21 knots and the now infamous swell growing from 2 meters to 4. The east-going current against an East wind pushes up big wind-over-current waves that are quite chaotic. We were happy that we were able to make our course without tacking, but the price to pay was a rollercoaster ride in the 3 to 4 meter swell, complete with two water cascades pouring over the nose and completely soaking us both. As we were dripping, I tried to remind Patrick that people pay big money for this sort of treatment at water parks. He was not amused.

Heard on the vhf radio from Malaga: a pneumatic boat with 30 people aboard on fire, trying to reach the Spanish coast. We stopped complaining about getting sprayed. We very happily tucked into the relatively calm Aguilas bay, where we decided to anchor at the east end of the bay near the beach. There was good protection from the swell, but winds were still around 15 knots. They slowly died down to an occasional gust. I installed my riding sail and will have to look back at my own pictures to remember what line I used for the foot of the sail. All calmed down beautifully in the evening and we had a good night, despite going to bed with salt crystals in our hair. Beer and snacks well-deserved before cleaning up all the stuff that got thrashed around. 

The coastline here is gorgeous - mountain ranges plunging into lapis lazuli blue water, ruined castles on hilltops, white-washed perched villages.  Unfortunately, in 3-4 meters of swell, the few photos I attempted don't do it justice. 

Tomorrow’s weather promises a calm ride to Cartegena. 

Eat, sail, eat, sleep;   eat, sail, eat, sleep; etc.

Our first anchorage of the season, Aguilas harbor.

My riding sail kept us from swinging too much in the 15 knot winds.

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Almerimar to Aguadulce

Last day in Almerimar before heading on: Groceries, fuel additive added to jerrycans of diesel, winches cleaned, whippings on lines re-whipped, life lines tightened, faucet filters cleaned (eeeuuuwww ! should have done this a week ago…), varnished woodwork in cockpit, cleaned and polished stainless steal around boat. Ready to head off to get some rest !

Mareda in Aguadulce

The weather called for 25 to 30 knots at 1 p.m. so we left early (not early enough for me, too early for Patrick). Calm mostly-downwind sail, jibing in light winds and finishing with 15-18 knots in Almeria bay near Aguadulce. As we tied up to the waiting dock at precisely 1 p.m., the winds climbed to 25 knots. Patrick decided to try docking stern-to anyway. With two marineros waiting to take our lines, we get Mareda’s ass into the allotted spot but a sudden gust pushes our nose over onto the neighboring boat precisely where we don’t have fenders. Patrick tried to use the motor to pull away but only managed to ding the corner of our own stern transom, precisely where it is impossible to put fenders. We managed to push, pull, and tug her into place as the wind gusts climbed to 30. We came to Aguadulce because there is a Jeanneau dealer near and we are getting our last days out of our 2-year warranty. After our stern-to debacle and new ding, Patrick sent them an email saying “BRING MORE GELCOAT”. Ice cream soothes the day.

After 20 days of work on the boat, we are finally enjoying our first days of what feels almost like vacation. We took the bus to Almeria to visit the Alcazaba, a Moorish fortress and the cathedral (we said last year we were going to give Cathedrals a break since there are just too many and they all start looking alike…). 

Almeria Cathedral organs, seen from below.

After a hot and dry visit, we refreshed in a Moroccan tea house with mint lemonade and homemade pastries. 

Our television reception is excellent thanks to relay antennas on the mountain across from the marina.  In the evening we get the news in French from the Moroccan stations.  As the sun goes down, the tv transmissions stop while the call to prayers is broadcast on every channel.  We have learned that this is our call to close all the windows without mosquito screens as the mosquitos launch their attacks at sundown.  

Almeria seen from the Alcazaba with our next sailing objective in the background: Rounding the Cabo de Gata.

Various repairs will keep us here for a few more days, but we are thoroughly enjoying this charming port and the relative rest. Now if someone can do something about those 30 knots screeching through our rigging… it’s like rounding Cape Horn in a storm but in shorts and flip-flops.

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Into the Med

10 May

Maria off to the showers while Patrick heads to the ship chandler in Gib to try to find sail drive oil. No luck. Checked out of marina for 2pm departure. Fold back bimini (we don’t sail with it), prepare the boat for first voyage. Lunch. Leave dock at 2pm with light winds, arrive on fuel dock with 22 knots in the nose and rough chop, get pushed into the dock and two marineros come out to help tie up; very rough. Realize that tank was not as full over the winter as we thought and we put 10 liters in the tank plus filled up a jerrycan. My beautiful wax job gets smudged with black streaks from fuel dock fenders and the wind and chop seemed to be getting worse. Decide it’s just a local thing and leave anyway. Not the way I wanted to start a first outing. Two reefs and motor as we turn down the bay on a beam reach. All the cargoes are at anchor and no one is moving. Gusts to 30. As we reach the end of the bay and get near the Pt of Europa, the seas flatten out a bit and the wind decreases to 20. As we jibe round the point, the winds are variable, influenced by the big Rock. We roll out a bit of genoa and are doing 7-8 knots over the ground on now-flat seas. Beautiful sail ! Arrived Estepona and marinero says to go bow-to quay since stern-to is too dicey with 15 knots of wind. Whiskey to celebrate, then Pat heads to swanky showers and Maria fixes dinner (pimentos, rice, fabadas with sausage and chorico). Skype home, read, collapse.

Europa Point

The Rock, finally in the BACKGROUND !

11 May

Walked around Estepona in the morning in search of fresh bread (hazards of sailing with a frenchman). Headed off around noon for another gorgeous downwind sail with a few sprinkles in the beginning, averaging 6 knots with 2 reefs and variable genoa in 18-24 knot winds and 1-2 meter swell from behind (surf !). Experimented with a new way of jibing using the boom brake instead of hauling in and letting out on the main sail sheet; seems to work much better since there is always tension on the brake and the passage goes more smoothly. Slowly recuperating from 10 days in the boatyard. Arrived at Fuengirola around 6pm, tied up at waiting doc and the marinero said we could spend the night at the waiting dock since they weren’t expecting any other visitors. (How do they know that?). Walked around town, discovered that this tourist resort is known for spare ribs, then promptly found a great little restaurant claiming to have the best. Around 22:30, we hear angry bow thrusters near us and pop our heads out to see what’s going on. A large Swedish boat is trying to tie up to the visitor’s dock for the night. After some rather awkward manoeuvers, they finally got settled in and we fully expected they would head out just at dawn to try to avoid paying for the night.

Dodged a cargo getting tugged.

12 May

Very variable day. Strong winds (2 reefs), weaker winds (full sails...finally!), SQUALL (2 reefs and handkerchief genoa for a brief 27 knots), followed by roll-up / roll-out genoa for the rest of the day, including an hour of wing-on-wing sailing. Dodged fish farms around entrance to Caleta de Velez and tied up bows-to again. Time to try out the gangway plank loaned to us from our friend Leo, who used this invaluable piece of wood successfully for many years of touring the Med. Works beautifully !

13 May

Pat goes to the market, Maria puts on the jack lines (doh ! Realized I forgot to put those on during yesterday’s squall). Off around noon. Another variable day, flying full sails with then without motor, a rapid 2-reefs in the main as winds climb into the 20s, then into Motril yacht club with 18 knots. Very expensive stop for a small marina with nothing around, but they are the only game around for 20 miles. Eurovision Song Contest on the tv, but reception keeps cutting in and out so didn’t see much (yes, it’s kitch but so much fun ! Congratulations Portugal !). Another day down. Getting tired.

Malaga marks the beginning of the end of the massive construction along the Costa del Sol

Greenhouses as far as the eye can see along this coast. Guides warn about large sheets of plastic blown into the sea after storms.

14 May

Pushing on to Almerimar today despite light winds. Almerimar is bigger and cheaper and closer to our rendez-vous spot in Aquadulce next week. Full sun, light winds, motor, and TWO KNOTS of favorable current !! Despite what many people think, you cannot ignore the tides and currents in the Med, at least not along the Costa del Sol. The day felt like a vacation. We even allowed ourselves a ½ glass of white wine with lunch in the cockpit, tested the (kick-ass) cockpit stereo system, relay naps, did some small fix-it jobs. Tied up to waiting doc in Almerimar for a mind-boggling 1 hour wait. Tied up, stern-to this time. As we start preparing dinner, we are hailed from the dock. An English couple Patrick chatted with while waiting to check in invited us over for drinks ! We had a lovely evening and they may become a new buddy boat, since they will be heading to the Balearics and Sardinia as well. Love the cruising life. And now for FOUR DAYS of rest ! (well, there are those winches to clean…).

Finally, stern-to mooring.

And a propos of nothing in particular:

After 20 years of living in France, I’m used to the all-purpose cleaning product “Mr. Clean” being called “Monsieur Propre”, but for some reason, the Spanish version “Don Limpio” just cracks me up.

Read in the local paper: towns are trying to come up with ways to prevent so much wax from dripping onto the roads from the candles during the numerous religious processions of spring and summer. The wax build-up is causing car accidents.

As you leave Spanish ports, you can almost always find a Virgen Mary and Child waving good-bye to you. I suppose this is supposed to comfort you, but it gives me the willies. “Beyond this point, you’ll need all the help you can get.”   

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Diary of a Boat Prep

2 May

Community carpool service (Blah Blah Car) to Nantes airport, 1.2 hours from home; in hotel at Malaga at midnight, out at 6:15 the next morning. Three hour bus ride to Gibraltar (La Linea de la Concepcion on the Spanish side). Check in to 4-star hotel in partnership with Marina Alcaidesa (65 Euros for 2 with breakfast buffet and dinner buffet included). MAREDA !!! All seems well – dry, no funny smells, no bugs, no dings, no danging rigging; seems like we just popped off for a couple of weeks. Take bimini to repair shop (broken zipper). Lunch. Panic ! The marina tells us that haul out is in 20 minutes ! Motor started up with a gentle pur, maneuvered in reverse into the travel-lift slip like pros. Bottom looks pretty good for 6 months in the water (special “Mediterranean” anti-fouling we used?). Power wash. Drain sail drive oil and refill. Change oil filter and check levels. Shower. Dinner. Collapse.

Travel lift and smoking Rock of Gibraltar (typical East wind phenomenon)

3 May

Gigantic breakfast ! Will not need lunch. Wash and wax hull, sand bottom and prep for paint. Contact B&G electronics dudes to see about our green auto-pilot light light that is out. Big beer, early dinner, listened to French presidential debate via web radio, collapse.

4 May

Gigantic breakfast ! Paint bottom, ran out of paint, order new paint in a panic (will arrive tomorrow morning). B&G guys show up and do a software upgrade. Apparently the green plastic they used for the controller doesn’t let enough light through, so the software upgrade and settings help to put more light in the green areas. (what happened to the good ole days when that sort of problem was just an electrical connection?) Changed zinc on sail drive. Washed (filthy) fenders with Black Streak Remover, rinsed and inspected mooring lines. Repainted depth marks on anchor chain. Checked new “Wifi Away” traveling internet system (20 GB at 4G speed for 39 Euros / month all over Spain and Balearic island). Beer. Shower. Gigantic buffet dinner. Collapse.

Haz Mat Pat is back !

"Open wide and say Ahhhhh."  WD40 cures just about anything.

5 May

Gigantic breakfast ! (less enthusiastic now). Finish bottom paint; travel lift up so we can paint keel fully down. Pick up bimini from repair shop. Pick up out-board motor from winter storage shop. Relaunch boat. Move boat to marina choosing a spot facing the wind so we can put on the sails. Too much wind for sails today. Clean toilet. Toilet joint leaking slightly. Order new toilet joint kit. One solar panel seems to not be charging, but kicks in when we make a large demand on the battery with the fridge. Lazy bag on boom. Inventory of dry stores (food stuff) left on boat over winter in preparation for shopping trip. Gigantic buffet dinner. Patrick decides to add one more night in the hotel. We’ve got a lot more work to do, the interior of the boat is a jumble, and we like buffets.

6 May

Happy Derby Day Kentucky Friends ! Gigantic breakfast then SAILS ON ! Whew ! Always good to get that job done, especially in excellent conditions. Check PC computer navigation programs and GPS. Biked out to huge commercial center and grocery store (Carrefour) to see if they deliver. Yes ! Unpacked clothes, sheets, towels, etc., stored on the boat over the winter in vacuum-seal bags. No funny odors, no spots, excellent. Cleaning, arranging interior. Gigantic dinner. Back to boat after sundown to check out nav lights. All well. Collapse.

7 May

Last day at the hotel. Gigantic breakfast, check out and move stuff to boat. Move boat to a new pontoon with electricity and water. Wash boat !! Neighbor tells us it has rained mud (red Saharan dust) for the last month. Even clean, Mareda now has a sort of “tan”. Wash stainless railings. Dodger on. Drain engine fuel / water separater. All looks well...no water, no black sludge. Flags on, buoy and Man-over-board sling installed. Fill water tanks and prime pump (takes quite a while and pump did not want to prime). Check cooking gas. Clean bikes (chains a bit rusty). Dilute acid on small rust spots around boat, rinse, polish. Big whiskey while listening to French presidential election results. Vive la France !!

8 May

Ahhh…. Corn flakes and coffee on board Mareda. Mega shopping trip (2 hours) with delivery to the boat. Bimini on. Wash floor rugs. Changed gas filter and chased resulting air bubble from fuel lines; changed water pump propeller, cleaned water filter. Check air filter. Lunch (swordfish) and dinner (gambas). Showers. Check weather. Collapse.

Can watch over Mareda from the hotel.

9 May

Laundry day. Market day. Took bikes to bike shop for gear tune-up (still under guarantee). Mopped floorboards. Filled up 5 liter gasoline jug for outboard engine. Lunch (swordfish again). Filled water tanks and jerry cans. Store and secure everything. Plan to leave marina to anchor just outside for the night. Canceled that – 20 knots sustained winds and we can’t leave tomorrow until 2:30 pm anyway because of the currents around Gibraltar (probably the last time we’ll have to deal with currents during our Med tour). Off to Shepard's ship chandler in Gibraltar for toilet parts not available in La Linea. Loaded up on Marks and Spensor’s Sicilian Lemon Curd (dangerous habit). Spent last of our Gibraltar pounds on ice cream. Showers. Dinner (calamari with chorizo and pimento peppers). Blog post ! Collapse.     

Ready to head out into the Med tomorrow !

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